The Breakup Artist

by Shannen Crane Camp

  “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to write for a newspaper. My brother makes fun of me because I got the idea of being a newspaper writer from Lois Lane.”

  “Wait, the girl from Superman?” I asked, amusement creeping into my voice.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down at his napkin. He had obviously been through this discussion before. “My brother always says I’ll be the best Lois Lane at the paper.” He rolled his eyes at the memory, and I tried to stifle a laugh.

  “Well, when you get your first official job, I’ll get you some heels that’ll make the green in your eyes just pop,” I said, putting on the best overly feminine voice I could muster. He shot me a playful death glare just as the waitress came to take our order.

  I ordered spaghetti, a nice generic meal that wouldn’t cause anyone to pass judgment. I was used to being generic. I had conditioned myself so well to order only things that wouldn’t draw any attention to my real personality (if it even existed) that it had become a habit. I had never had a problem with who I was, or wasn’t, before this. I didn’t have a personality and that was fine because I didn’t need one to get by. I didn’t need friends or hobbies, likes or dislikes—all I needed was something I was good at, and that thing was molding myself into whomever I needed to be. So why was it such a big deal now that I was the way I was?

  I didn’t hear what David ordered because I was too caught up in my own psychoanalysis. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed that he was saying my name, possibly repeating it because I hadn’t heard it the first time. His voice had that tone you use when you’re trying to snap someone out of a daydream and it isn’t working. I finally looked up at him with a puzzled expression glued to my face.

  “Huh?” I said, sounding very intelligent, I’m sure.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked, taking note of my dazed expression.

  “Spaghetti,” I said automatically, then mentally slapped myself on the wrist. The oddest things just seemed to pop out of my mouth around David. I really needed to concentrate and rein in all of my weirdness before he realized I really wasn’t a “cool” person. Maybe this was it. Maybe David brought out my real personality and my real personality just happened to be a loser.

  “All right, I’m just not going to ask then,” he said, his mouth forming a thin-lipped smile as he shook his head, apparently amused. He looked down at his water glass for a moment, giving me enough time to compose myself and get back into what I was really supposed to be doing.

  “So I talked to Claire today,” I said cautiously, trying to nonchalantly play with the sugar packets on the table so that I didn’t seem interested in the conversation.

  “Oh, yeah?” he replied, and I could automatically tell he was using the same carefully-not-interested tone as me. “How is she?”

  “She sounded a little down,” I said with the slightest glance in his direction. He was staring at me intently, which caught me off guard. With his voice so distant and disinterested, I’d been expecting him to be doing some useless, distracting thing with his hands. Or I figured he would be looking at his placemat like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Instead, here he was, watching me. It made me nervous, instantly putting me on my guard so that I was doubly careful of my tone and expression. I returned my gaze to the sugar packed and pressed on. “I know this is personal but I thought you guys were really cute together. Why did you break up in the first place?”

  On a normal date this would have been completely unacceptable territory to have stepped into, but I figured that by this point we both knew this wasn’t a normal date—he with his odd reactions to my behavior and me . . . well, just me in general. He kept his gaze focused on me as a slight grin crept over his lips.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he answered. And with that the subject was closed. For now. I figured I could just bring it up again later on, maybe once we got back into the car so that he wouldn’t have an escape from the situation. I nodded in understanding and pushed the sugar packet around the tabletop with my finger intently. “Since we’re talking about relationships though,” he began, instantly grabbing my attention. This couldn’t be going anywhere good. “How has your dating life been? I mean other than right now, of course? You said you just moved here from Pennsylvania, right? So I’m assuming you really haven’t dated much since getting here.”

  I was beginning to wonder if David somehow knew what I did for a living. It seemed like every question he aimed at me was meant specifically to tear down my nerves until I broke down and spilled the truth to him. Unless these really were normal first-date questions and I was just way out of the loop.

  “No I haven’t. I don’t really like to date. In fact, I’d rather be alone most of the time.” That’s right; I was going to cut this thing off before it got any worse. I’d just show him how unavailable I was, then suggest Claire again and get the heck out of there. “I’m kind of a social recluse.” I smiled brightly at him, daring him to ask any more questions that would hint at the real reason I was there. Surprisingly, he didn’t make a snide remark or try to ask me anymore unanswerable questions. Instead he put up his hands in surrender and smiled.

  After he had graciously backed off, an awkward silence fell over us. Though this kind of thing normally didn’t bother me, I decided to give him a break since he had just done that for me. “So what kind of stuff do you submit to the local paper?”

  He looked up at me as if he were surprised by my question but quickly composed himself and shrugged his shoulders. “A lot of different stuff, I guess,” he said noncommittally. “I’ve done some human interest pieces, and some opinion pieces . . . a few others but that’s about it.”

  “That’s funny, because I would have pegged you for more of the ‘bearer of bad news’ type—obituaries, accidents, children getting little puppies stolen away from them—that sort of thing.” I grinned at him, feeling pretty proud of myself for my clever joke until I saw the look his face had taken on. His lazy smile instantly melted into that look that women get when you ask them if they’re pregnant when they’re definitely not. I couldn’t understand this reaction, and I was desperately hoping that he would crack a smile any minute and say “Gotcha!” but that didn’t happen. He just continued to look at me as if I had run over his dog until I couldn’t take his gaze anymore. I let my eyes drop to the pattern on the table, cleared my throat awkwardly, and muttered a quick “Sorry,” under my breath, though I had no idea what I was sorry about.

  The rest of our time in the restaurant went the way most dates do. We got our food and I tried desperately not to splash red sauce all over myself. He asked about my favorite color and my favorite movie, both of which I lied about, since I didn’t really have a favorite anything. I asked him the same generic questions back, and when the bill came I offered to pay for myself even though I had no intention of actually doing that. I wasn’t even sure if I had my wallet with me. But he chivalrously paid and we left.

  In the car it looked like he was heading back to my house, cutting our date short. I guess that meant I had at least succeeded in making myself unappealing to him, so that threat was out of the way. Now I just had to work on getting him back together with Claire, and I had a whole fifteen-minute car ride for that.

  “Hey, David?” I started sheepishly, actually a bit wary of the conversation we were about to have. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I hadn’t really come up with some brilliantly subtle way of saying it, so it was going to be rocky.

  “Yeah?” he said, turning a radiant smile in my direction. I ignored the fact that I actually wanted that smile to be for me and pressed on with my tactless plea.

  “Will you please just do me a favor and call Claire? Just talk to her? I know it would make her really happy.” I was begging and I knew it. It wasn’t just the fifty dollars that I didn’t want to give up, it was my pride. If I couldn’t finish this job properly, it would be my first official failure. I didn’t think I could handle that label. I kept my eye
s trained out the front windshield, afraid to see his reaction. There was a long moment of silence before I heard him sigh.

  “Yeah, I’ll call her,” he promised quietly. I tried to keep my face smooth as the relief and happiness washed over me, mixing with the jealousy and anger that I was actually forcing this boy out of my life. The need to have him there was, I had to admit, completely shallow. I really didn’t know much about him except that he liked to write and he was extremely good looking. I didn’t even like blonds most of the time but his sandy hair looked beautiful when he constantly shook it away from his green eyes.

  “Thanks,” I replied sullenly. He caught the unhappiness in my tone and looked over at me inquiringly, but I just let out a small laugh and waved away his unspoken question with my hand. When he got to my house I hastily got out of the car and said a quick, “Thanks for dinner,” over my shoulder. If I didn’t get right out and go right up to my house, I would probably do something else stupid, like tell him that I changed my mind and that he shouldn’t call Claire. Wasn’t I leading him back into an inevitably painful relationship with Claire just to save my pride? It was the exact same thing Claire was about to do to him. I began walking quickly to my door when I felt a hand close around my elbow and a figure appeared beside me. David smiled winningly at me and began the trek to my doorstep.

  “I can’t very well let you walk yourself to the doorstep, now can I? That wouldn’t make me a gentleman.” I swallowed back the anxiety that was building somewhere inside me and nodded dumbly. I was sure it was a bad idea with my complete lack of censor today, but I figured that as long as I kept my mouth shut I’d be fine.

  At the door I pulled my keys from my purse and smiled awkwardly at David. “Well, thanks. That was fun,” I said quickly, making it clear I just wanted to get inside and away from all of this confusion.

  “No problem. We’ll have to do it again,” he said smoothly. I swiftly put the keys in the lock and turned them, hearing the click as the deadbolt slid back. I turned back to David to give him a little wave when he suddenly slid his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. The utter shock on my face didn’t seem to deter him at all. He was set on a purpose, and nothing was going to interfere, not even my clumsy half-formed question.

  “David, what—?” I began, before he pressed his lips firmly against mine. I inhaled sharply, not quite sure how to react to this. For all of the relationships I’d been involved in ending, I’d never actually been in one myself, and it struck me in this moment that this was my first kiss. I felt a little pathetic, but I let that feeling slip away quickly and simply enjoyed everything about it—his warm breath against my lips as he pulled me closer to him, the way his hand rested on the small of my back, the soft pressure of his nose nudging my cheek with each persuasive kiss.

  When he finally pulled back after what had to be nearly five minutes, I realized that my arms were circled around his neck. When had that happened? Embarrassed, I pulled them away and looked at the ground. What were you supposed to say after your first kiss? Thank you? That seemed a bit lame, but I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do to break the silence. Did I just walk right into my house without a word? Maybe just a friendly reminder to call Claire? And tell her what? That he’d just kissed Amelia Bedford, the amazing breakup artist? I finally dared to look up at David and found acute confusion lining his features. Well, that couldn’t be a good sign. There really wasn’t a whole lot confusing about kissing. It was a pretty basic thing. I mean, even I had done pretty well for my first time, I’d say.

  “I’m going to go now,” he said distantly, distractedly. I nodded silently, afraid that if I spoke I’d ruin the moment even more than he was ruining it, which would be quite a feat. It only took seconds for him to get into his car and drive away, and I stood on my front porch, completely shaken.

  I had just had my first kiss. And it wasn’t a little peck of a first kiss. It was a major, earthshaking, intense, passionate first kiss. With a client. I turned that thought over in my head for a while, trying to decide what exactly that meant. I definitely had to give the money back, because there was no way things were going to work out now that I’d seduced the client. Or was it the other way around? I was pretty sure the client had just seduced me. I wasn’t the one who threw myself into the kiss in the first place.

  I sighed deeply, not even wanting to think of the mess I’d just gotten myself into. My brow was creased with anxiety as I made my way to my bedroom. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. I’d never let a client walk me to the door before, because that only led to bad things, like kissing your impossibly cute paycheck. Ugh. What was wrong with me? I’d broken up with cuter boys for people before, but as much as I wanted to think it was just his looks that interested me, I knew it wasn’t true. There were a lot of little things, even after the short amount of time I’d spent with him. It was the way he always raised his right eyebrow at me when I said weird things or the way only half of his mouth curved into a smile when he was trying not to make me feel uncomfortable.

  But then again, there were a few red flags that I had been purposefully ignoring. He had asked some pointed questions that suggested he knew exactly what I was up to. Of course, that had to be crazy talk. He couldn’t possibly know what I did for a living. My clients were all sworn to secrecy, not so much out of loyalty to me, but more out of an unspoken knowledge that if they told someone about my secret they’d have to start fighting their own battles because my business would be no more. So it had to be sheer paranoia talking. He had no idea what I did. He was just another boy I’d lured in with my good looks, and this time my pre-prom loneliness had gotten the better of me. I’d just have to work on controlling my emotions better in the future. Besides, now that I’d failed one client, at least I wouldn’t have my perfect record hanging over my head. It wouldn’t be such a shock on the day I failed another client. It was like never missing a day of school and then suddenly getting the flu. It was a situation completely out of my control, so I should just try not to fret over it.

  I told myself that same explanation over and over again that night, and I eventually fell asleep, filled with an acute sadness that I couldn’t quite seem to place. I ignored my thoughts of David and resolved to make it right on Monday. I’d straighten things out with Claire and give her the money back. Then I’d finish up my jock client and things could go back to normal. Perfect plan.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday passed relatively uneventfully, though my mother did ask me how my date was. I quickly skirted the subject by just saying it was okay. She seemed to accept that response easily as she rushed out the door to work. She had started working Saturdays a few months ago and had recently added Sunday to her schedule. Her constant absence from the house was beginning to make me wonder if she was really going to work, or even going on dates. It seemed more likely that she had developed an entirely new family and I was the one she was sneaking away to see. She didn’t have to work on Sundays because we certainly didn’t need the money. I mean, we didn’t have tons of cash stored away, but we had enough to be comfortable.

  By Monday morning I had mentally prepared myself to break the news to Claire. I figured I’d leave out the hairy details and just tell her I wasn’t able to finish the job. I had her fifty dollars stowed safely in my wallet, which rested in the white leather purse I’d tossed into the car. Driving in the hot pink high heels proved to be quite a challenge, but it was sure to be nothing compared to facing Claire. I only had to hope that Claire’s ego wasn’t hurt so badly that she would expose my line of work to the entire school. Not only would that ruin me, but she would be stupidly sabotaging her own personal protection against the awkwardness of breaking up in the future.

  I stepped out of my car when I got to school and adjusted my bubblegum pink tank top so that it highlighted my assets. I counted on Blane’s disposal to be easy, but I didn’t want to take any chances with my newly shaken resolve. I turned around to grab my purse out of the car and
caught my reflection in the window. My blonde hair was curly, and my makeup was expertly applied. Everything about me today said “look at me,” which was completely opposite of the car I was staring into. My silver 1999 Hyundai Accent was about as inconspicuous as they come. I’d figured that I’d need something generic when I bought it, and so far it hadn’t failed me. That and the car was reliable, so I didn’t have to worry about breaking down in it, which was probably good, because if I did break down, no one would notice my car long enough to stop and help me.

  The school was teeming with pre-prom excitement today. We only had two weeks until the blessed event, and everyone was already pairing off with unusual haste. I could see the lack of interest in the eyes of the couples, but their fear of being alone for something so big kept them glued to each other as if they were a vital part of life. I kept my jaw firmly set, trying not to scowl at the people around me, especially since I was receiving so many scowls from girls as it was. It had to be the outfit, but a lot of the girls in the school knew what I did, so they couldn’t truly be mad at me for doing my job after they had all asked me to complete similar jobs many times before. I had gotten to school a little late that day, so I headed straight for psychology without looking for Claire.

  I spent most of the class period reciting what I’d say to Claire in my head. I knew that I’d probably just forget my entire speech and throw the money at her before running away (which would be difficult in these heels) so the speech preparation was completely pointless. After class I headed to my locker only to find Claire there. Much to my surprise, she didn’t seem angry. I’m guessing that meant she didn’t know what I was about to tell her yet. This almost made it harder, having to spoil her good mood. When I approached she threw her arms around me with a knowing smile. I hugged her back awkwardly, wondering what I’d done to deserve such a warm welcome.